


Tamed

by Wolf_of_Lilacs



Series: femHarrymort/Tomarry [13]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Domestic, F/F, Female Harry Potter, Female Voldemort, Fluff, certainly the softest fic I've ever put there, possibly the softest fic under the fem Voldemort tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-01-31
Packaged: 2021-02-25 05:46:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22491034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolf_of_Lilacs/pseuds/Wolf_of_Lilacs
Summary: Harriet, Voldemort, and how they spend their mornings now that they've managed a tenuous peace.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Voldemort
Series: femHarrymort/Tomarry [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1284977
Kudos: 81
Collections: Flashing into the New Year





	Tamed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SolitaryEngel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SolitaryEngel/gifts).
  * In response to a prompt by [SolitaryEngel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SolitaryEngel/pseuds/SolitaryEngel) in the [flashing_into_the_new_year](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/flashing_into_the_new_year) collection. 



> Sol, I started this for the flash fest a month ago and was only just now inspired to finish it. I'm sorry it isn't longer.

“Must you go out today?”

Harriet glances over her shoulder as she zips her coat, her wand tucked safely in an inside pocket.

“Wands don’t make themselves, and weird old lady wandmakers are about as patient as…you.” Harriet winks.

“Hmm.” Voldemort pouts, and even now, after months, Harriet finds it adorable. Too adorable for Voldemort’s mouth, but it is also a very kissable sort of mouth, which is definitely a plus in Harriet’s book. “Blankets by the fire, warm cider? Much better on a day like this.”

The weather is terrible. It isn’t snowing so much as some unholy hybrid of snow and rain, and Harriet’s shivering already just watching it out the front window.

“NO one suspects anything,” Harriet sighs. This is a weekly discussion, sometimes more frequent. And it’s less of a discussion and more of an excuse for Voldemort to see if she can give Harriet a better reason to stay in than the day prior. Today, by her standards, is downright tame.

“No doubt someone does. The golden girl and her little cottage in the country that no one has visited? I did tell you to be more discreet, lest someone get the idea to finish what I failed.”

“I’m just going to work. I’m not going to hide out from some bitter Pureblood supremacists, all right?” Harriet does kiss that mouth. Voldemort’s thin lips are agile, and that tongue of hers…well…Harriet’s not one to kiss and tell, but damn.

“You trust too easily.” Voldemort gestures helpfully at herself. (It isn’t a compelling argument; she’s still in her fluffy dragon slippers.) “You are impulsive and—”

“And I’m not living in fear. You’re dead. That’s all anyone needs to know.”

Voldemort’s arms come around Harriet’s waist. Harriet returns the embrace, her head level with Voldemort’s hairless brows. She seems so small within the folds of her morning robe (“never night gown, say that again…”) that Harriet almost wants to bundle her off to that absurdly comfortable new armchair they’d picked up and cradle her in her lap, never mind that Voldemort is a good three inches taller than Harriet.

“People will always want to pry,” Voldemort hums. She pats Harriet’s cheek in that fond, patronizing way of hers. Harriet just sighs.

Harriet does wonder, though, as she Disapparates and knocks on Professor Gertrude Martin’s door for her wandmaking apprenticeship how long this surrender—if that’s even the proper word for it—can hold. Voldemort has never been one for patience.

But she’ll take what she can get, for as long as she can have it. Voldemort is a much warmer presence in that little corner of her mind where the Horcrux resides than she used to be

_I hope I’m not too distracting_ , Voldemort purrs.

Harriet smiles to herself. _Don’t push it, or you won’t find out what I have planned for tonight._

Voldemort laughs her high-pitched, grating laugh, and Merlin, that in and of itself makes all the uncertainty, all the risk worth it. Because Harriet isn’t afraid of that laugh anymore. It helps that she can feel the fondness behind it.

She no longer lives in fear. She’s tamed it instead.


End file.
